


Day of Reckoning

by LuchaDoRa



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Zombies, Angry Daryl, Awkward Daryl, Daryl Dixon and Merle Dixon are Young, Daryl Has Issues, Don't Care because I love him that way, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Friendship/Love, Hurt Daryl, If you don't just leave, Merle Being an Asshole, Shy Daryl, Well younger in Merle's case don't tell him I said that, carol being carol and being nice to everyone, daryl being daryl and swearing at everything
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-23
Updated: 2017-10-27
Packaged: 2018-06-10 07:08:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,765
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6944809
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuchaDoRa/pseuds/LuchaDoRa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Dixon Hole is deep, dark, and something Daryl has been trying his hardest to stay away from. Then comes Carol, her light bright enough to make the shadows run in fear and help him close up the hole for good. But when she leaves, all he can think to do is dig it back up and jump in himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Most of these will probably be longer than 100 words, so deal with it.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A series of lengthy drabbles in chronological order of the developing relationship between Daryl and Carol through high school and beyond. Look for teenage drama, angst, feels, fluff and some other shit.
> 
> Based on my previous work which was intended to be a full length fic (with the same name) but never got off the ground. Yes, I am a lazy shit.

Today was going to be a really shitty day. Daryl knew it, knew the difference between a good day and a bad day like he could tell Chokeberries from Nightshade. He didn't need much help, seeing as his morning wasn't pleasant. He woke up late and luckily, didn't wake up his probably unconsious father, but missed his bus. Almost got run over by another car in the process.

"Stupid fuckin' driver!" he kicked at the driver's car, ignoring the beeps and curses thrown back at him. He had to treck the shortcut through the wooded area, only to trip on a tree root and stain his shirt on the moist mud. A furiated growl came from his mouth then.

"Stupid fuckin' tree!" he kicked at the tree trunk and pulled himself up off the ground. When he eventually arrived at the pathetic excuse of a high school, he got stopped by a teacher and handed a detention slip.

"Stupid fuckin' teacher." he grumbled and scrunched up the slip in his hand. He was tempted to kick at the wall, but decided not to.

Class did not go so well either. Well, when did it ever? Daryl hated English. It was the most stupidest idea of a subject ever. If you could speak it, why did you need to learn it? It was pointless, that valuable time could go towards a skill you actually needed in life, like hunting. His teacher had hinted at him that he may be dyslexic and he can't really remember what happened to the teacher, only that they didn't come in after that. Hell, he couldn't even remember the teacher's name. She was just some stuck-up, irrelivant shit anyway. Daryl Dixon was no retard. He was not stupid. He just didn't try very hard because he didn't like it and that was it. His grades were down the pan and they weren't going to shift anytime soon, so why should he bother anyway? Merle promised he'd come back and save him from this hell-hole, but he wished he'd hurry it up already.

 

* * *

 

 

"What's that on your shirt Dixon? Looks like you've been eating shit for breakfast with those squirrels."

"Fuck you, Lori." A laugh came from behind her.

"Nah, nah. It was last night's dinner, you know Dixons don't clean." Shane was just another asshole and Lori was just another slut that got on Daryl's nerves. He reacted physically a few times but it was pointless. Rich brats always fucking seem to find a way to crawl out of the pile of shit they make. He was getting his bag from his locker, still in a mood amplified from earlier in the day. He grumbled as he slammed the door shut a little too forcefully, making the girl behind it jump quickly.

"Oh! You scared me!" she said. Her voice was light and airey. Daryl jumped back a little himself. It was entirely relflex though. He took a quick look up and down the now empty corridor. Yep, entirely instinct. He took a moment to look at her, realising he had never seen her before. When he didn't speak, she decided to. "Well, erm, I was actually hoping you'd give me some directions? I'm a little lost," she started."Can you tell me where the art block is?"

"Down the hall." Daryl pointed behind the girl. She turned around to look in the direction he pointed her in.

"Been looking everywhere and it's right behind my damn head." She shook her head at herself.

"You new or somethin'?"

"Yeah. I just moved here from Marietta. I'm Carol." He didn't speak again, and Carol had to promt him. "And...you...are?" she said slowly. Daryl grunted in response. He pulled the backpack back onto his shoulders and started to walk away. "Hey, wait." She called after him. He turned silently and waited for her to speak. Carol stopped, realizing she had nothing to say. She just wanted company, maybe a new friend. She was ready to say 'never mind' and dismiss him, when she noticed a brown spot on his shirt. "You have something on your shirt." She began rumaging for something in the pocket of her sweater.

"I know." He was about to walk away again when she offered him a soft hankerchief.

"I don't have tissues, so is this okay?" Daryl blinked at her for a few moments, unsure of what to do. "It's clean." she stated, thinking that was his problem. His eyes darted back and forth from her to the hankie and he took it tentatively in his fingers, like it was going to fall apart. "You might need to wet it to help you get the mud off."

"Thanks." he said, his eyes low.

"No problem." she smiled. "Well, see you round." She waved and clutched her book to her chest, heading off towards art. He watched her go a little, before looking back down at the hankie he still clutched in his hand.

"See you, _Carol_."


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I told you I was a lazy shit. Don't give up on me though, I love this pairing too much to let this one go.

_Six days later_

It was beautiful day, like most days in Georgia. Daryl felt the sunshine on the back of his neck. It felt good.

He decided that today was going to be the day. He had shadily lurked around that girl enough (to know that she was both unbearably naïve and overly friendly with everyone, even Lori for Christ's sake) and he was done debating whether or not to return the handkerchief to her today, or bail at the last moment like last time and delay it again. It had practically been a week; she had probably forgotten about it, probably forgotten about him - Hell, he didn't even give his name - and he would just look like a complete idiot convincing her what her own property was. Wait, wasn't he supposed to be encouraging himself?

He groaned in frustration, muttered several curse words and quickly stomped over to her lunch table before he could change his own mind. To his relief, she saw him coming and smiled and he could detect faint recognition in her eyes.

"Hi!" She said, beaming.

Daryl stood awkwardly. "Um, hey." He croaked, actually using his voice for the first time today. And her being overly sociable didn't help the fact that he was the most extreme introvert on the entire planet. What a loser.

She sat patiently waiting and Daryl realised he was staring and hadn't told her what his pathetic ass was doing at her table. "Ya' hankie." He said simply, and held it out to her. Her eyebrows raised, that wasn't what she was expecting, but she gratefully took it.

"Thank you. Do you want to sit down?"

The look her friend gave him the moment Carol uttered those words said it all. "Nah," he said quickly, to her disappointment. "I gotta... uh, I have'ta go..." he said lamely, turning and leaving before he could shame himself anymore.

"Wait!" Carol called after him, but he carried on walking quickly enough for her to have trouble keeping up with him. He turned the corner and hid behind one of the storage bins, until he heard her sigh in defeat and give up looking for him. If Merle could see him now, he wouldn't hear the end of it. "Where's ya' game, boy?" He could hear Merle taunting. Running and hiding from a girl? What kind of a Dixon was he?


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *gasp* she doesn't update at all for God knows how long then updates twice in one day?  
> I'll sort my life out one day guys, let me live.

_Three days later_

Daryl was doing his best to avoid Carol. He really was. But being persistent also happened to be another of her many personality traits that would otherwise be admirable to Daryl but at this moment in time, it was getting frustrating.

God, he wished she would get the message and stop harassing him. Well, attempt to harass him, since she could never get close to him. The minute he spotted her he would take off in the opposite direction, dive into the nearest open door, run for the boys' room, practically anything to avoid speaking to her. And he always spotted her first before she did him. He had hunter's sight. It was also because she was strikingly beautiful, but it was mostly because he had hunter's sight. And alongside the fact that she was almost unforgettable...  
Jeez, where was he going with this? He shook his head and slammed his locker shut.

"Hey."

"Arghhh!!"

"Oh!"

The next few seconds went far too fast for Daryl to comprehend. Carol had been stood behind his open locker door and decided to greet him when he closed it. Only Daryl had been far too preoccupied with his own (questionable) thoughts and hadn't noticed her, shitting himself up and then Carol up in the process.

"Jesus Christ, what's wron' with ya', woman?!"

"I'm sorry! I didn't mean to scare you! Or me, for that matter..."

Daryl's brain caught up with him, and he realised his tactic of avoiding Carol was now in shambles, and it took every fibre of his being not to run away at that moment.

"Say, what ya' doin' 'round here anyways? Ain't it time you went home?"

"I had a feeling I'd find you by your locker. I've been trying to catch up with you these last few days." A crease formed in her brow.

'I know.' Daryl thought. "What for?" He said instead.

"I never got your name." She breathed out, like it was a secret, like she had been holding it deep in her for a while and finally released it. Daryl would've laughed, if he wasn't confused out of his brain. That's what all this was about? Since when did anyone give a shit about him to acknowledge the fact that he actually had a name other than Dixon? Why did she? 'Maybe she doesn't know you're a Dixon. Maybe she hasn't been here long enough to know the rep that comes with the name Dixon.' He pondered.

"Daryl." He said. "Daryl Dixon."

She stuck her hand out. "Nice to meet you, again." She smiled. Okay, she definitely didn't know what was up if she was willing to make actual physical contact with the redneck. He looked at her hand with narrowed eyes, sceptic that she was playing some sort of a trick and her friends were hidden behind a dumpster laughing at him. "I'm not going to bite." She said, tilting her head, observing him. He looked in her eyes and saw no malice in those blue lagoons, only kindness and compassion. He took it and shook it, making her beam, but released it quickly. The smile was still playing on her lips, though it had turned into more of a smirk than a smile. Anxiety began pumping through his veins.

"Is somethin' funny?" He questioned.

The smirk had turned back into that beam. "No, no. It's just.. I've been waiting over a week to find out your name, and I had a lot of guesses. But not Daryl. Daryl Dixon; it suits you."

Daryl was curious. "What kinda guesses?"

She choked back a laugh. "B-Bryan."


	4. Chapter 4

_3 months later_

"Boo!"

"Ya' tryna scare me, woman?"

"Clearly it didn't work."

"Course not. Pro hunter here. Nothin' scares me."

Carol resisted the urge to laugh really hard. But it didn't work, and her silvery laugh chimed in Daryl's ears. "You make me laugh, Daryl."

It was true, he was really funny without meaning to be. It was one of the reasons liked him so mu... uh, was his friend.

Since Carol was a couple of years older, they didn't really have any classes together. Instead they spent every lunch together on the picnic table at the back of the ground. Daryl liked sitting there because they were away from everyone else's judging stares. Everyone was nice to Carol, and Carol was the type of person to be nice to everyone regardless of the way they treated her, so she had a lot of other friends. But that didn't stop the looks and whispers she got when her back was turned because she hanged around with the Dixon boy. What made it worse was the looks they were given whenever they were _together._ Carol knew of course and said she didn't mind, played it off with a casual shrug, but boy did it piss Daryl off. Not because they looked at him like that, no he was used to it. It was the looks at Carol that did it. But Carol liked hanging out with Daryl, and as much as he never complained, he really did wonder why.

"Hey Carol? Can I borrow you a second?" Lori drawled, looking around, as if she'd melt if someone caught her on the weirdo's turf.

"Sure." Carol answered perkily, making her way over to her. Daryl just responded in his usual way, by giving a death glare and Lori returned the favour to him.

After a few minutes, Carol returned. "What was all that 'bout?" Daryl questioned.

Lori really took a liking to Carol, enough to tell her all the nitty gritty stuff. And of course, Daryl was one to hear the news right after. Even though he didn't have anyone else to tell.

"You mean with Lori? She's pregnant and doesn't know if it's Rick's or Shane's."


	5. Chapter 5

_2 weeks later_

Daryl felt a chill in his bones when he exited the door. He could feel the tingle that something wasn't right; his survival instincts kicking in. This was more than just 'a shit day'.

"Hey, brother."

Daryl knew that voice, that saying so exclusive to one person it could be copyrighted. His head almost fell off his shoulders at the rate it rolled to the side.

"Merle." He breathed out, fogetting to inhale oxygen back in. "Ya not s'posed to be back yet."

"Now it almost sounds like ya ain't glad to see ya big brother in the driveway."

"Course am glad." Daryl countered defensively, because he actually was. Glad to see prison hadn't killed him, glad to see he was still in one piece. Glad he was plain back, because it wasn't him who'd been getting the short end of the stick from their dad while he'd been gone. It was Daryl. 

But him back meant a lot of other things too. Like the fights, and the bullying, and the pressure to do stupid stuff. And he wasn't looking forward to them much. Nor was he looking forward to hauling Merle's sorry ass out of whatever trouble he was ready to land in next, because he was adamant on making the Dixon name hold on to its horrid reputation. 

"The old man home?" Merle allowed a fraction of vulnerability to cross his features just for a moment. Daryl shook his head.

"Oh good." And the vulnerability was gone. "Well, out early with some time off for good behaviour, believe it or not." Merle curbed, smirking. "As far as good behaviour goes when it comes to Merle Dixon." He tugged at his leather vest. "Now. Where's ma bike?" 

Daryl rolled it out of the garage, shiny and good as new. Most of his days were spent on getting that thing working again. 

"Aw baby! Don't ya look beautiful!" He stroked the seat before snatching the keys out of Daryl's hand. "I'm gonna get wasted. Probably won't get back tonight."

With that, he started the bike and drove away, the roar of the engine letting everyone know Merle Dixon was back in town.


	6. Chapter 6

_4 days later_

It turned out, Merle being back presented itself with more problems than Daryl had planned for. Word gets around pretty fast in a small town, and within the day everyone had already knew he was back. Which meant more whispers and looks at school. He wouldn't have minded, but Carol was getting a little too curious for her own good. 

"You never told me you have a brother, Daryl!"

"Nah I didn't, so how d'you know?" He gruffed.

"Lori told me. Did you hear that?  _Lori._ Not you, because apparently it doesn't occur to you that friends tell each other things." She folded her arms, but she was relentlessly giddy. "So come on, what's he like?"

"Please Carol, I really ain't in the mood."

"Darryyylll." She stretched out a whine. "Pleeeaaasse." She puckered out her bottom lip, and Daryl had to resist the urge to catch it between his teeth.

What the fuck. Was that Daryl. He had to shake himself to rid the warmth stirring in his groin at the thought.

"N-no Carol."

"Jeez, is he really that bad?"

"Ya think he's come back from vacation or somethin'? He got out from prison. That ought'a tell ya 'bout what kinda character he is."

Carol was a little stunned, beacuse that was the most she ever heard Daryl speak in one go before, and it was ranting about how bad his brother is.

"Trus' me. Ya don't wanna know him."

And the problem went both ways too. Since word gets round fast in a small town, Merle seemed to have plenty intel on Daryl's lady friend.

"Come on, brother, who is she?"

"No one, Merle."

"I seen you together yesterday. Ya think I wouldn't know if ma brother's got some or not?"

"She's only a frien'."

"Oh, no way in Hell is a beautiful girl like that hangin' around your sorry ass 'cause she likes your personality." Merle spat. "Ain't no Dixon ever just 'been frien's' with a good looking girl."

"Jus' leave it alone."

"So ya fucked her yet or not?"

"I said leave it alone!" Daryl raised his voice, to his brother's amusement.

"I take that as a no." He laughed. "Damn boy, ya get  _any_ while I was gone? Well good ol' Merle's here to help. I'll find this girl, don't worry. She'll be beggin' for your lap."

That same warmth began spreading into Daryl's crotch again. 

"Damn, how long's it been?! Is just the thought gettin' ya goin'?" 

Daryl went red from embarrassment. "S'not like that, Merle."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Warning) This chapter contains mentions of implied abuse and some graphic despcriptions of injury, just for your own information in case you're not fond of that sort of thing.

_2 weeks later_

There was a scent of rain in the air. The grey cluster of clouds were beginning to loom over Georgia soil and Daryl couldn't wait for it. It had been too damn hot to function and he hoped the rain brought along cooler temperatures with it.

His crossbow was raised, just enough to hit the squirrel right in the eye. He found that body shots ruined the meat. When he released the arrow it flew and sunk its head into the bark behind the animal. The squirrel hurried away, unscathed. Daryl cursed at his miss and shrug a muscle loose in his dominant shoulder. He winced at the bruise on his side. It had been drinking night and no way in Hell was he gonna spend it in the house. He was lucky to get away with just that. Merle sensed danger too and fucked off to God knows where. 

So Daryl was alone again in his real home between the trees. Catching himself something to eat, because ain't no one gonna feed Daryl but Daryl.

Only, he was finding it difficult to actually catch the dinner, let alone cook it. Prodding at the bruise, he wince and lifted his shirt to inspect it. Littered among the other horrid scars, was an ugly blue-purple lump of discoloured skin. It looked disgusting, and felt even worse. Daryl would kill for some painkillers right now. 

A growl in his stomach reminded him of his hunger. Yearning for company more than anything else, he took the trek to Carol's house.

Luckilly it was Carol who opened the door, because he was sure if it was her parents opening it to find her dirty redneck friend set with a crossbow they'd bolt up their doors tighter than Fort Knox and send him packing. 

Carol was pleasantly surprised. "Daryl! Come in."

"Ya parents home?" He'd been here once before. Her prissy parents didn't take too kindly to him. Daryl guessed they just needed warming up. With a couple punches.

"No, they went out for dinner."

There was a growl in his stomach.

Carol giggled. "Hungry? I'll get you something to eat."

"Ya make this ya'self? It's real good." Daryl rubbed a finger across the plate to scrape up whatever he could before putting it in the sink. 

Carol smiled as she washed up. "Thanks. I really like cooking and baking. It's a bit of a skill I guess, like your hunting."

"Huntin' ain't nothin' like cookin'."

"Sure it is! You're just catching the meat I'm cooking it. I'm sure if you brought me a few squirrels I could make a mean stew." Carol laughed as she dried her hands on a dishcloth. Her smile faded when she turned to face Daryl. "Jeez Daryl, you're bleeding!"

Daryl looked down at his side and saw a small red patch seeping through his checked shirt. Well shit. He must've torn the shit open on his way here.

Before he could protest, Carol lifted his shirt to press the dishcloth to his injury. Daryl jumped back like she gave him an electric shock. "Woah." He didn't need her seeing his disfigured body.

Carol seemed to realise her mistake. Daryl was not a touchy-feely type of guy. "I just want to make sure you're okay."

"Am fine."

"Not while you're bleeding. I have a first aid kit. Let me help you."

He was going to protest further. What was under his shirt was a line that just wasn't crossed. But when he saw Carol's blue eyes filled with no malice, no mockery, only compassion, he couldn't say no. Daryl lifted his shirt only enough to expose his wound. He wasn't going any further than he had to. 

Carol gasped when she saw it. "God, that looks awful, Daryl! How did you do it?"

"Bear jumped out and knocked me into a tree. Must'a tore it open on the way over here."

She was gentle with her hands; Daryl could barely feel them. But these were Carol's hands, hands that lit fires wherever they traced Daryl's skin, letting heat waves roll through him. The pain was long forgotten. But dear God, she needed to stop touching him like that. 

"Hunting seems a rough job." She commented dryly, aiming it at the other scars that peeked from his shirt. Her face was impassive, as if she was thinking something other than what she was saying.

Daryl knew Carol enough to know she was smart, even though she acted as if she didn't know as much as she let on. 

"Yeah it is." He agreed, though it was rather him who was being hunted. 


End file.
